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Despite her seventeen summers, Himiko considers herself as a love expert. Not to Mister’s level but definitely not far. Love is the core of everything, the central point of her life, the motivations behind her actions, and the unstoppable force that keeps her moving. Some say that her conception of Love is fucked up, that it’s not what Love really is. But they’re wrong. Himiko knows how Love looks like, in its every shape and form; friends and lovers, parents and children, connected by shared blood, by choice or by some random twist of fate. Himiko’s seen it all, experienced some of it, hungry for more. Always more. Even if it’s for a minute, even if it’s for a second, she wants to taste it, again and again. And if she can’t, it’s fine. Sometimes, simply witnessing something new and fragile blooming between two people is as fulfilling. Sometimes, it’s enough to relieve the itch to taste and possess.
The problem is that Himiko is not patient. She’s never been into pining and slow burn and all that stuff, but she promised Mister she wouldn’t mingle so she won’t. A promise is a promise and it’s probably the best course of action. Knowing the two pining morons, mingling would probably be the best way to not make it happen. So Himiko will bear with it and pray that one of them will finally do something.
Alone in their living room in the PLF mansion, Himiko is for once free to daydream about what could happen, her thoughts lulled by the sound of the rain clattering against the large windows and the voices of her favorite trash TV. She nibbles on the candies Spinner bought for her last time he went out for a mission, musing about the fact that people seem to like making things more complicated than they should be.
Her peaceful moment doesn’t last long though. She hears them before even seeing them. She sinks deeper into the couch, making herself small, half-hidden under layers of blankets, waiting for the familiar figures to appear in the doorway. She can’t pick up the words yet, but Hawks’ voice is recognizable, cheerful, and bubbly, echoing between the walls, followed by the low hum of Dabi’s softer voice.
They step into the room without noticing her right away, too engrossed in each other and their talk. Dabi looks like he’s bored to hell and back, shoulders slouched, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants but there’s a glint in his eyes that doesn’t exist when he’s truly bored. Himiko knows. She took part in enough meetings with Dabi to recognize a bored Dabi without a doubt. And he never is when Hawks is around.
Hawks bumps into Dabi’s shoulder with a grin and opens his mouth to add something but stops in his tracks, wings puffing as his eyes zero in on Himiko, molted gold catching her gaze immediately. Dabi follows Hawks’ gaze, and the glint dulls when he realizes he’s not alone with Hawks.
“What are you doing here?” Dabi grumbles.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just catching up on my series.”
Hawks’ wings rustle, all red and shiny, as he leaves Dabi’s side to join Himiko on the couch. “I’ve missed that episode. Dabi, let’s watch it.”
Himiko catches the fleeting expression on Dabi’s face before it’s back to his normal poker face. “Pass.”
He turns on his heels and leaves the living room with a stiffness in his gait that wasn’t there before. Hawks calls him back but Dabi straight up ignores him, disappearing in the hallway.
Hawks shakes his head. “Insufferable.”
With a giggle, Himiko unwraps herself from one of her blankets to lay it on Hawks’ knees. “Not everyone can appreciate this kind of show.”
He flashes her a smile. “His loss, really.”
Himiko smiles back and scoots away to allow Hawks to arrange his wings in a comfortable way. Some primaries brush against her knee, soft and supple, and Himiko can’t help but touch them with the tips of her fingers, marveling at the smooth texture. Hawks doesn’t seem to mind so Himiko keeps caressing the vanes. Her mind wanders again, her eyes following Hawks’ profile. It’s funny how similar they look. Same hair, same eye color, same build. Maybe, in another life, they could have been siblings. Himiko wouldn’t have minded having a brother like Hawks. She feels like maybe her life would have been easier if she had a big brother like him, to look after her, to accept her and her weird bits. Maybe she wouldn’t be there and maybe he wouldn’t be either if they had had each other. But she wouldn’t have met Jin, or Mister or Tomura-kun, or Dabi. So maybe it’s not that bad.
“You’re staring,” Hawks says without looking at her.
“Because you’re cute.”
“Even without a bloody nose and a black eye?” He asks with a side glance and a crooked smile.
Yeah, it would have been great to have him to watch over her. But maybe it’s not too late. She learned that family can also be the people you pick. She smiles and worms her way under Hawks’ wing, latching onto his arm. The hero doesn’t push her back, going as far as closing his wing around her shoulders.
“You’d look better with a bit of blood,” she muses.
“Red on red. Not very tasteful,” he quips back, the amusement in his voice obvious and Himiko’s smile grows a bit.
“Nonsense. There’s never enough red.”
Hawks chuckles. “If you say so.”
“It’s the color of Love, after all, and there’s never enough Love.”
Hawks remains silent for a while before patting her fingers wrapped around the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re probably right.”
Atsuhiro has always been a creature of the night. Maybe it was because of his past career in entertainment or just because he genuinely enjoyed the specific brand of quiet you only get in the dead of the night.
Tonight though, it’s the ghosts of his past and the uncertainty of the days to come that kept him awake. He doesn’t want to lose his family again and despite Shigaraki’s careful planning and the PLF’s resources, the future doesn’t look very bright. A storm is coming and all Atsuhiro can do is look at it coming their way and prepare the best he can. He will do his best to protect them all, with his meager strength and power. He doesn’t want to see them face another Magne. He doesn’t want to wipe Toga’s tears again and comfort Jin when the guilt becomes unbearable. It’s a pipe dream but despite the odds stacked against them, Atsuhiro doesn’t want to give up on hope. Not yet. Not quite.
The silence of the dark hallways is a balm to his nerves. He passes Toga’s room and Spinner’s, both dark. At the end of the hallway, Jin’s bedroom is quiet as well. Light on his feet, Atsuhiro leaves the fourth floor to the third. Dabi’s bedroom is also silent and dark but there’s no guarantee Dabi is here. Dabi is like a wandering cat. You never know when he’ll come in and you’ll never see him leave. Although, with Hawks dropping by more often than not, Dabi tended to be around more often.
The pretty bird came by tonight, all drenched and dripping from the cold winter rain, shivering from wings to toes but always smiling. It was amusing to see Toga and Jin fuss over Hawks, smothering him with towels, dry clothes, and blankets, while Dabi watched the whole scene with a barely hidden pout, pout that turned into a scowl when he caught Atsuhiro’s gaze. Under the layers of aloofness and cold annoyance Dabi wore like a suit of armor, Atsuhiro noticed the seeds of possessiveness. Dabi didn’t like it when Hawks’ attention wasn’t on him and him only. Fortunately, if Dabi was in the room, Hawks would find his way to him, like two magnets attracting each other, and Dabi’s expression will brighten ever so slightly if you paid close attention.
The thick carpet of the corridor muffles Atsuhiro’s steps as he passes by Shigaraki’s bedroom and unsurprisingly, there’s still light filtering under the closed door despite the clock reading 4 am. Atsuhiro stops briefly, wondering if a gentle reminder that sleep is a necessary thing would be welcomed or rebuked, as hypocritical as it may sound.
Maybe on his way back.
Naturally, his steps take him to their shared living room, where they’re now used to gathering every night to share dinner, watch a movie or just chat about their days. At this time of the night though, it’s usually dark and empty and Atsuhiro likes to lounge in the chair by the window for a while, looking at the night sky, or, as of tonight, the rain falling. But instead of darkness, he can catch the moving light of the TV screen. Did someone forget to turn it off before going to bed? Maybe Jin actually fell asleep in front of the TV again?
Atsuhiro tip-toes in the room, ready to turn off the TV and throw one of Toga’s many blankets on the oblivious sleeper, but pauses before the sight offered to him. A mess of tangled limbs, a cocoon of red feathers, and two familiar faces asleep without a care in the world.
Hawks didn’t leave in the end, despite assuring that he’ll go after the movie. Maybe the rain discouraged him. Or maybe Dabi’s presence convinced him to stay. Or maybe they just fell asleep without noticing. Given Hawks’ obvious and constant exhaustion, it wouldn’t be surprising, and Mister knows how sleep-inducing Dabi’s body heat can be. And something is telling him that Dabi would definitely take advantage of that.
Atsuhiro contemplates for a heartbeat how Dabi’s face rests on Hawks’ chest, how his fingers are loosely tangled in the oversized hoodie. One of the red wings rests lightly on Dabi’s back while the other has unfurled completely, covering in red the hardwood floor and carpet. Hawks’ snores are light, barely audible above the muted sound of the TV. Dabi shifts in his sleep with a groan, his fingers flexing around the fabric of Hawks’ hoodie and the red wing covers his frame a bit more, almost hiding it completely from Atsuhiro’s view, like a blanket. Or a shield. Dabi settles once more and his breath becomes deep again.
They finally look their age and Atsuhiro realizes how young they truly are. The vulnerability of their expression pulls at Atsuhiro’s heartstrings, a reminder that both of them are hardly more than boys, forced to face life in its ugliest parts, without really experiencing the bits that make it worth it. Atsuhiro wishes they could taste the intoxicating feeling of having someone to go back to, to feel wanted and desired for who they really are, to have someone who can actually look past the mask.
But the reality of their situation is going to make everything more complicated, even impossible. That’s why he told Toga not to mingle.
Dabi is a villain.
Hawks is still a hero, despite what he says.
Real life rarely brings happy endings to people like them, Dabi and Hawks are no exception. He wishes it would be different, that the gods would be merciful on the boys. But gods don’t care, Atsuhiro learned it the hard way. Placing his faith in them has always been vain. Instead, he will give it to the man staring at his computer screen, in a dark room, and entrust to him their future.
Quietly, Atsuhiro leaves the living room and makes a detour by the kitchen to prepare a mug of hot cocoa, the way his own mother used to prepare it. The rich smell of melting chocolate accompanies him on his way back to the last lit-up room. He knocks softly and lets himself in. Tomura glances above his shoulder, his face lost in the shadows.
Atsuhiro makes his way to the desk and sets the mug of cocoa between empty cans of energy drinks. He pats his boss’ shoulder without a word and retreats to the silence of his own bedroom.
“What the hell are you two doing here?”
Spinner startles and looks above his shoulder while Twice lets out a surprised yelp. Shigaraki stands behind them with a frown, his expression half-hidden behind the long silver strands.
Twice presses a finger against his lips, through his mask, with a loud ‘ssssh’ that is probably louder than Shigaraki’s voice. Their boss raises an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer, and Spinner is almost tempted to say it’s nothing but Twice doesn’t let him.
“We’re observing our bets!” he whisper-shouts.
“Your bets?” Shigaraki repeats, unimpressed. He looks above Spinner’s head and spots Dabi and Hawks strolling the alleys of the large garden, visibly in a deep conversation given how close their heads are. “What did you bet on?”
Again, Spinner opens his mouth to answer but goddamn Twice is faster. “Betting if they kissed already. Or banged . Or both.”
Shigaraki looks at the two men walking between the box-trees, unaware of the spies crouched behind the window, half-hidden behind a heavy curtain. Shigaraki’s red gaze comes back at Spinner and Twice.
“They didn’t.”
Twice gasps. “How do you know it? I knew it! ”
Shigaraki shrugs and turns on his heel to resume his walk. “Yet.”
“Boss?” Spinner and Twice blurt together.
“4000 yens on Hawks making the first move,” Shigaraki concludes before turning around the corner.
“Boss!” Spinner calls back, but Shigaraki doesn’t come back.
Twice and Spinner look at each other. “Do you think he knows things we don’t?” Spinner asks finally.
Twice taps his chin, thinking. “He’s the boss, he probably does.”
“I think he’s bluffing,” Spinner replies, looking back at the two oblivious morons.
“You say that because he agrees with me.”
“Hawks won’t make the first move. Dabi is the smitten one.”
“How can you tell he’s smitten? Dabi is less expressive than Mister’s mask.”
“Animal instincts.”
“Ooooh. Bullshit. ”
Spinner shrugs. Dabi and Hawks have stopped and are facing each other. Hawks is smiling, as usual, and Dabi looks at him with rapt attention. Twice can tell whatever he wants but Dabi doesn’t look at Hawks the way he looks at the rest of them. His body language is totally different as well, something in the way he carries himself, in the line of his shoulders, and the fact that no matter where Hawks stands in a room, Dabi will gravitate around him. It’s so painfully obvious that Spinner is surprised Hawks didn’t notice. Or maybe he did but is not interested.
Hawks looks up when the first drops of rain start falling and Dabi hunches with a pout. The hero says something and laughs before stretching a red wing above Dabi’s head, his smile turning from wide to something smaller and softer when Dabi scoots closer to shelter himself from the pouring rain.
Spinner’s conviction that the feelings are mutual strengthens at the sight. You don’t smile at someone this way when you’re not interested. Except if you are a fucking good actor. Spinner squints his eyes. Hawks is probably a fucking good actor.
No. You can’t fake that, Spinner decides.
“Kiss already,” Twice mumbles. “Come on Dabi, don’t let me down, bro.”
“Not gonna happen,” Spinner answers.
And sure enough, the two dumbasses go back to the mansion without hurrying and Hawks takes off as soon as Dabi is on the porch, the red wings disappearing in the clouds in the blink of an eye.
Twice and Spinner scramble to their feet as soon as they hear the heavy door close and scurry away to avoid Dabi. Spinner doesn’t trust Twice to keep his mouth shut if Dabi surprises them like Shigaraki did earlier and he would rather avoid being turned into lizard stew by their resident arsonist.
When Keigo lands in front of the familiar gates and is greeted by the smiling guard, he wonders for at least the fifth time what he's doing here. The soles of sneakers crack on the gravel path littered with rain puddles from last night. There's still humidity in the air, and the rain is still not far. Even without the heavy grey clouds hanging above his head, he would have been able to tell just with the way his feathers hum.
The mansion stands tall and impressive on the other side of the impeccably neat garden and Hawks doesn't feel that ominous feeling of dread anymore. The mansion doesn't look as gloomy and harrowing as a few months ago, and that is in itself is worrisome. Hawks is lowering his guard. He's getting comfortable and this isn't good at all.
He’s strolling the path at a leisure pace, in no rush to go inside. The massive door suddenly opens on Mister Compress and Twice, bundled up in their winter coats to face the cold of this winter morning. Hawks recognized the fluffy scarves around their necks, the colors bright in the grey light. Toga ambushed him a few days ago and sat him on the couch to do some online shopping with her brand new tablet and Re-Destro credit card. It has been a fun moment and Hawks made sure to pick the most obnoxious purple scarf for Dabi, to ‘match his scars’ but even though he was certain Dabi will never wear it, he made sure that the fabric wouldn’t catch on the staples or be itchy on the seams. No wool or knitted stuff despite Toga’s pouty expression.
Compress spots him first and tips his hat at him, his expression hidden behind his cryptic mask.
Twice’s large smile half-hidden behind a bright blue scarf. “Hawks! Buddy! I didn’t know you were coming today! What are you doing here?”
Hawks chuckles at Twice’s enthusiasm. “You’re going out?”
“Just a reckon mission, nothing fancy,” Mister answers. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Be careful.”
“Always. Dabi isn’t there,” Compress adds, and despite the mask, Hawks picks up the knowing smile in his voice.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t there to see him,” he shrugs off, despite the slight pang of disappointment.
“Why then?” Twice looks genuinely puzzled and honestly, Hawks doesn’t blame him. It’s one of his rare days off and he probably could have thought of better things to do.
Like zoning on his couch all day long, alone with his thoughts and a bucket of hot wings. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have minded that much but now —
Now, his brain is being too loud, his thoughts not the most joyous ones and he found out that being alone didn’t appeal to him that much anymore. So the mansion appeared like a good compromise. He could still gather intel and not go stir-crazy in his silent apartment. Even when he was left to his own device, he didn’t feel lonely. There was always someone somewhere to talk to, background noises to ground him, things to distract him before he got too locked up in his own head. Two birds, one stone, right?
Right?
Stupid.
That was so fucked-up. He should be relieved to have the opportunity to stay away from the League’s members, even for a short time. He should take advantage of it to rest. To retreat and regroup until things got clearer in his mind and he was focused again.
“Hawks?” Mister calls gently.
Hawks blinks and his smile comes naturally, too wide, too bright. Too fake. “Oh, sorry, zoned out for a minute.”
Twice frowns and squeezes Hawks’ shoulder. “You need to sleep, buddy. You look like a garbage zombie .”
Hawks has no clue what a garbage zombie is but it’s probably not a good thing. “Good thing I’m off today then.”
Mister nods. “I think Toga-chan was planning on a uuuh— How did she call it?”
“Hot-girl-shit day,” Twice answers with a dejected tone. “I wanted to do it too.”
“I’m sure there will be others. If we hurry, you might still catch the end of it.”
Twice perks up and grabs Mister’s arm, dragging him toward the main gate without another look at Hawks.
Thoughtful, Hawks watches them leave. Maybe what’s luring him back to this place is the fact that the people there actually give two shits about him as a person. Not a tool, not an asset to use — well, not only at least. They seem to actually care if he looks tired or grumpy, or are just happy to have him around to just hang out.
Hawks turns on his heels and resumes his slow promenade through the garden, every alley well-known with the amount of time he walked them with Dabi by his side, exchanging intel and jabs or, more rarely, companionable silence.
Something shifted in their relationship. Hawks can’t really pinpoint when or how, but it grew into something different. It’s not unpleasant per se — not feeling like he’s about to be turned into ashes on a whim is quite nice, mind you — but it’s unnerving. It makes Hawks lower his guard even more, when it should keep him on his toes. In those quiet moments, it makes Hawks want to lean against Dabi’s shoulder, drop his burden at his feet and stop moving.
It’s stupid, really, and Dabi would probably burn him to a crisp if Hawks admitted his double-agent gig, but the temptation is strong. It’s probably the exhaustion talking and that’s why he should be in his own nest, resting, instead of the place where everything gets jumbled.
He pushes the heavy door, climbs the massive stairs, and follows the sound of the TV coming from the living-room on the third floor. He’s welcomed by Toga with her hair pulled back and a pink face mask on her face. She smiles at him, wide and warm. Before he can say or do anything, he’s sitting on the couch. His hair is stuck in a purple headband and Toga is straddling his legs, applying her pink goo on his face, her tongue poking between her teeth.
Hawks lets her do as she pleases. He doesn’t protest when she starts filing his talons, surprised that the nail file doesn’t break. It’s Spinner’s , she explains.
Morning rolls by, filled with Toga’s babbling and homemade hair masks and scrubs. She insists on preening his wings and Hawks shows her how. Nobody helped him preen in years and the sensation of foreign fingers combing through his feathers is strange but relaxing. Spinner joins them briefly to drop takeouts but retreats before Toga’s manic smile as she tries to convince him to join them.
They eat in front of their favorite trash tv show, stuffing their highly moisturized faces with spicy curry.
Hawks feels himself dozing off after lunch and the plushie blanket Toga throws on his knees doesn’t help. His body is like goo, tensed muscles finally relaxed and mind quiet.
He falls into a deep slumber in front of a romcom Toga picked, unable to fight the fatigue finally catching up on him.
He vaguely perceives movements and hushed voices around him, and he’s pretty sure he more or less wakes up at one point when someone sits next to him. He recognizes the familiar scent of leather and smoke and deems it safe to fall back asleep, his head lolling on a bony shoulder. The voices keep chatting but they reach him as if he was underwater. He can feel the vibrations in his feathers, a gentle tug at the back of his sleepy mind that reminds him that he’s not alone. That there are people watching his back while he rests.
The room is dark when he finally manages to convince his eyes to open.
“Welcome back to the living.” Dabi’s voice is barely above the whisper, but the amused tone is unmistakable.
Hawks pushes away from Dabi’s side where he burrowed, embarrassed. Dabi rolls his arm with a wince.
“How long have I been out?” Hawks asks, voice still heavy with sleep.
Dabi meets his gaze with a smile. “I don’t know. I’d say a solid five hours.”
“Five —” Hawks blinks. “That’s more than what I sleep at night.”
Dabi huffs. “No wonder you’re exhausted then.” He reaches for Hawks’ head and peels off the headband still tangled in his hair. The gesture is slow enough for Hawks to avoid it if he wants to but he doesn’t move. “Toga thought you fell into a coma,” Dabi continues with a half-smile.
Hawks scrunches his nose, massaging the crick in his neck. “Well, it sure felt like it.”
Dabi stares at him, his fingers playing with the purple headband.
Hawks holds Dabi’s gaze in silence for a heartbeat. Dabi’s features are only lit up by the changing colors of the TV screen. Once more, the temptation to stop everything burns Hawks from the inside, the words menacing to fall from his traitorous lips. He purses them instead and forces himself to look away.
Damn, he really ruined his neck. He tries to massage it more, feeling the stiff muscle rolling under his fingers. “Where’s everyone?”
“Dunno. Probably around.”
Hawks startles slightly when warm fingers push his own away and replace them on the nape of his neck. Dabi’s hand doesn’t move until Hawks’ shoulders relax.
“You should have woken me up,” Hawks says, suddenly unable to stand the silence between them.
“Why?” Dabi’s fingers are clever, finding the knots bothering Hawks with ease and working them out, one after the other. “You obviously needed to sleep.”
What can he answer? He did need to rest, but not in a room full of the most dangerous people in Japan. And at the same time, he can’t really remember the last time he actually slept this good.
Dabi’s fingers leave his nape to knead into his shoulder and Hawks doesn’t protest. He looks back at the man next to him. He doesn’t know if it’s the light of the TV that softens Dabi’s gaze or if it’s something else.
Hawks’ mind is so slow that it takes him a second to realize that Dabi’s hand is around his neck again, long fingers brushing against his jaw, his cheek, the staples lukewarm against his skin. He blinks and when Dabi leans forward, he doesn’t move. Dabi stops an inch shy from Hawks’ face, so close that the tip of his nose brushes against Hawks’. The blue light of the TV reflects in the staples, in the three silver studs shot in his nose, in his half-lidded eyes, and Hawks is mesmerized, his mind drunk on sleep and the feeling of safety Dabi is now associated with.
The burn in his chest is back again.
Would it be so bad to stop, after all? To selfishly have something for himself, for once? But that would mean betray all the people relying on him. He’s the last rampart despite his not-wide-enough back and if he fails, he doesn’t know how many innocent lives will be lost.
Can he live with this? Can he look away without doing anything? Just because he’s tired, physically and emotionally, is he allowed to stop?
“You’re thinking too loud,” Dabi whispers in the space between them, the tip of his fingers gentle against Hawks’ cheekbone.
“I’m not.”
Dabi’s eyes crinkle at the corner. “You are.”
The lips pressing against his are not a surprise and still, Hawks tenses. Dabi pulls away slightly, just a breath away and Hawks has every chance to pull away further, to stop before it’s too late, to prevent something stupid to happen.
He doesn’t.
He closes the space between them once more, slotting their mouths together, and can’t bring himself to regret it when Dabi’s tongue brushes against his for the first time. The dam he carefully built cracks and there’s nothing Hawks can do to stop the need for more to flood him.
A shiver runs down his spine and he presses closer, chasing after more touches, more warmth. His heart thrums against his ribcage and thunders in his ears, and the low hum Dabi lets escape finishes to destroy Hawks’ last resistance. He breaks their kiss just long enough to climb into Dabi’s lap. Legs straddling legs, hands tangling into raven strands, Hawks dives back, recapturing Dabi’s mouth, his whole body buzzing with a hunger he’s not sure he can satiate. Dabi’s hands worm their way under his sweater to skim against the skin of his waist, hiking up along his spine to reach the soft spot between his wings. Hawks groans, tugging at the locks trapped between his fingers, and is answered by a muffled chuckle.
“Hey Dabi, we’re ordering pizz-”
Hawks looks over Dabi’s head to see Spinner standing in the doorway, mouth gaping. He blinks once, twice and a smile stretches his maw. “Fucking finally.”
“Go away, Ninja Turtle,” Dabi growls, glaring above his shoulder. “We’re busy.”
Spinner doesn’t move. “Tell me you kissed him first, Dabi.”
“What the fuck? Get lost!” Dabi blurts.
“Hawks, did he kiss you first?” Spinner asks again and Hawks frowns.
“Why?”
“Just answer the question, please,” Spinner almost begs.
“I’m going to burn your scaley ass, Spinner,” Dabi threatens, blue flames popping in the palm of his hand.
“He did,” Hawks answers hastily, not willing to kill the mood even more with a murder.
Spinner whoops and turns on his heel, his phone already in hand. “Hey Twice, guess what?”
The rest of the conversation is lost and Hawks thinks it’s probably for the best. He recoils slightly, his hands resting on Dabi’s shoulders.
“Fucking lizard,” Dabi grumbles with a pout.
“I should probably—”
“If you pull the awkward move on me, birdie, I swear to fuck, I’m going to commit arson,” Dabi barks. “Come back here.”
Hawks looks down at Dabi’s miffed face, a bit taken aback. “Wha—”
Dabi huffs and yanks on Hawks’ sweater, to crash their mouths together again. “I wasn’t done,” he mumbles against Hawks’ lips.
Hawks snorts and links his arms around Dabi’s neck, feeling stupidly light-headed. “Greedy bastard.”
“You have no idea.”